


Thunderstorms

by WinterChill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterChill/pseuds/WinterChill
Summary: To them thunderstorms were almost like homeHermione Granger x Draco Malfoy





	Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> All Rights Reserved

Numbness was all she could feel. She couldn’t feel the bitter cold wind biting at her skin or her friends’ attempts at keeping her warm. She couldn’t feel the sorrow and anger trying to break through. All she felt was numbness. Just nothing. 

The ceremony had ended a while ago but she continued to sit in her seat, unseeing and unfeeling. Her friends sat with her trying to support her. One tried to get her moving but she had snapped her arm back and continued to look at the freshly filled grave. The headstone was large and marble, intricate designs bordering it along with a heartfelt message on it. One had called him a hero. It was exactly how he would’ve wanted it. 

“We need to go. It’s getting dark,” Ron’s deep voice interrupted. 

She stood slowly but not before brushing her hand against the cool marble. Her fingertips ran over his name repeatedly as if she was trying to etch it into the skin of her hand. It would fit the scar she already had on her arm. The scar that rested on her arm had been one he’d told her would haunt him forever. It was what he had called her, ridiculing her all the years he had known her, but it was what had propelled him to be the man he had been before his death. Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders and slowly guided her from the grounds.

////////////

Hermione hadn’t seen anyone for a week. She had locked herself in the room she had once shared with him at Grimmauld Place, drowning herself in the memories and in what scent was left on his clothing. At one stage everyone had tried to get in but, of course, she had barricaded herself too well. She could not bear to be out there, pitiful looks thrown at her and sympathetic words being said behind her back and to her face. She didn’t want their pity or sorrow. Their sympathy. Their words stating that they understood. Because they didn’t.

Everyone had lost someone in this war but they hadn’t lost as much as she had. Her parents were wandering around another nation, totally unaware of her existence and would probably never remember. The love of her life was buried in the school grounds where he had fought courageously. They all still had the ones they love dearly, someone to climb into bed with in the night and hold. She had no one. 

As it always had been.

////////////

She can’t help but think that maybe this was punishment. She used to lay awake at night and wish him dead over petty little thing. Over words that had stung but were now truly meaningless. Maybe this was her punishment for her selfishness, her pettiness, for being a bossy know it all. The one she hated for so long, only to find love with, was her punishment. To have him worm his way into her heart and be entrenched so deeply she would never let go. Then to be taken away with two words and a simple flash of green light. Gone forever with nothing left. She was all that he had left behind and even then she wasn’t much.

////////////

She can’t sleep at night. Every time she tries, his last moments flash before her eyes and she jolts upright in bed. She is always dreaming of that night. Of what she could have done to save him. She could’ve fought harder and not be the weakling he used to call her. If she had thought of the right spell, been quicker with her wand or anything, he could still be here.

Eventually she leaves her sanctuary. She has to. She’s been feeling so ill and unable to sleep. She’s in the kitchen when its Harry who’s the one that corners her.

“We were all wondering when you’d grow tired of being in there.” 

“It’s cooler out here.” 

“As much as you think it is, it’s not your fault.” 

“What makes you think I think it’s my fault?” Hermione whispered. 

“We know you have nightmares Hermione. We can hear your screams every night and no one can help you because you’ve locked yourself in there. Did you know you yell in your sleep? And it’s always his name. Or mudblood.” 

“Oh I didn’t realise. I’ll try not to scream next time,” Hermione promised softly.

“That’s not the point! The point is you’re suffering and you won’t let anyone help you! We are so worried about you Hermione. He wouldn’t want you to be like this.” 

“You know what? Maybe he’d actually want to be alive.” 

“Well he’s not.” 

“Exactly! That’s what you don’t understand! He’s not alive. He’s not here for me to hold and to kiss and to love. And you all say you understand but you don’t! Because you all have someone to hold and cherish. Ginny is still here. You still have someone to live for,” she finished coldly, turning on her heel and returning to her room. She climbs into bed on what was her side and clutches his shirt tightly. It was the shirt that Draco Malfoy was wearing when he first told her he loved her. She tries not to let her tears fall on it and erase his scent.

//////////

Two weeks after his funeral, an unseasonable thunderstorm raged over the house. And for the first time since his death, she smiles, even if it is a ghost of a old one. To them thunderstorms were almost like home. She compared that the thunder was like their arguments. Loud and what everyone always expected of the,. The rain was the tears she often shed and what everyone always saw from them. But then the lightening would strike, flashing brightly for everyone to see, a powerful force. It was the love that everyone would get glimpses of. The love that had burned through their veins and into their core, electrifying them.

Thunderstorms were home because that was when some of the most magnificent moments happened between them. He’d first told her he loved her during a thunderstorm. Not out in the rain with passionate kisses like in the books and movies. They had been curled up in bed and he had whispered it. I love you. And placed the softest of kisses on her skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old one, but one I've wanted to post for a while.  
> There's an extra bit I didn't post but may post as a sequel.


End file.
